So, the Inquisition was formed. The nobles begin to fear assassination from all sides. The times of nobility Mistborn killing each other are over. The Steel Inquisitors look for aristocrat traitors and insurgent skaa, and the skaa try with all their strength to merely survive. The Lord Ruler's perfect Final Empire is slowly devolving into chaos.
Read the full prologue!
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Mistborn Series © Brandon Sanderson
Allomantic Table, Symbols, and Cartography by Isaac Stewart
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The woman she had thought was Lucille for a moment matched gazes with her, and in that split second Marisha was appraised by those keen brown eyes. She felt as if she had been weighed to the ounce and calculated in that look. Whoever the Deveaux (she was certain it was a Deveaux; the resemblance was too strong to be otherwise) was, she was not, after all, very much like Lucille. The difference was in the eyes. ~Marisha Nathar, The Casuana Ball, Part 1 Then Camille's question came. As always, the woman was smooth as silk. With that calm face and the extravagant gown, Camille made a very imposing sight. Unless Daerra missed her guess, that cool stare didn't miss much. Out of those in the circle, Camille was probably Daerra's most dangerous adversary. ... She was reasonably certain that Camille had recognized the metal for what it was, she had seen her glacing at them earlier. Did that make her a msitborn? Daerra had never sensed any allomancy at all from Camille, and there was not even a rumour that she was an allomancer. That didn't mean she wasn't one, it just made her more dangerous. ~Daerra Elariel, The Casuana Ball, Part 1 "Like every other noblewoman you've spent time with," she finished softly, "who flirt and manipulate and scheme their way to you, hoping for a chance to marry into the Venture title." She must have seen the stare he was giving her by way of reply, because she continued. "It's not hard to figure out, Nevan. You're the most eligible bachelor in the Final Empire right now, by virtue of your station alone. Of course every noblewoman in the capital would kill for a chance to capture your interest." "And you?" he asked quietly, though part of him didn't want to hear the answer. "Already have," she answered with a shrug. "Twice, actually. The third got away, unfortunately." "....." "I was kidding again, Nevan." He sighed with relief - "They never get away." - and found himself leaning back in his chair a little. He wasn't sure what kind of face he was making, but Camille took one look at him and had to suppress a fit of laughter. "I went too far again, didn't I?" she asked, looking a little embarrassed. "Just a little bit, yes." "Oh good, so I can still tease you a little bit. Oh look! Dinner's here!" Just what he needed. An excuse for Camille to pick up a knife. ~Nevan Venture and Camille Deveaux, The Casuana Ball, Part 2
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